


A Red Dawn

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [7]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Angst, Dragon Riders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The story of how Aramis and Rhaego came to be paired—and saved each other in the process.
Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564573
Comments: 13
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

Aramis sat alone in the garrison yard, at the table situated under the captain's office. From his position he could see the comings and goings through the main archway but was just enough out of the way that no one bothered him. There were plenty of other places and tables around the garrison for musketeers to congregate, particularly in the open space in the back near the dragon dens, which Aramis no longer had reason to visit.

He sat quietly with head bowed over his pistols as he cleaned and oiled them. Porthos and Athos were away on a mission, and since Aramis was no longer a dragon rider, he had not been assigned to go with them. The three "Inseparables" had become two.

It had been a year and six months since the massacre at Savoy where twenty musketeers and two dragons had been slaughtered, including Aramis's dragon. He had chosen not to pair with another one after that, had decided instead to return to the Musketeer rank below that of dragon rider. It meant he no longer went on special missions with his closest friends, but that was for the best, in the long run. He'd gradually been pushing everyone away, keeping them at arm's length, for fear of going through such devastating loss again. He'd never survive it a second time.

…Sometimes he wondered why he'd even survived Savoy. A miracle, his fellow musketeers called it. Aramis was inclined to believe it was a curse.

His hands moved deftly and by second nature over the pistol, his mind unneeded for the task set before them. Which meant of course that it was able to entertain all these morose thoughts, and his heart gave a pang of grief and loneliness. His self-imposed isolation was a double-edged sword.

"Aramis?" a feminine voice queried tentatively.

He looked up to find Constance Bonacieux, the young daughter of the royal dragon keeper, standing at the foot of the table. There'd been a time when Aramis saw her often, as she and her father were the caretakers for the Musketeer dragons, but she was yet another friend he'd distanced himself from.

That didn't mean he couldn't be polite. "Constance," he greeted. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, actually, if you have some time to spare to help me with something."

Aramis set his pistol aside. "What is it?"

She hesitated. "One of the dragons my father and I have been trying to train is being…troublesome. The King purchased him six months ago, and even though he was still small at the time, he just hasn't taken to obedience." Constance wrung her hands in her skirt. "He's almost full grown now and the King has threatened to have him put down if he can't be tamed."

Aramis frowned. "I don't think there's anything I could do that you and your father haven't." Training dragons _was_ their speciality, after all.

"Maybe someone else can get through to him," she said with a hint of desperation. "You've always been good with dragons. Please, Aramis, what could it hurt to just try?"

He could see how distraught she was over the prospect of having to put the poor beast down. "Alright," he relented, gathering up his pistols and clipping them to his belt.

"Thank you," Constance said earnestly.

Aramis just nodded and accompanied her back to the royal dragon den, which was located adjacent to the Musketeer garrison. Constance led him to one of the pens that had a russet dragon inside. He was seven feet tall and thirteen long, so he had a little bit more growing to do.

"This is Rhaego," Constance introduced.

Aramis noted the young dragon didn't react to their presence with hostility—no growling or snapping—but he did roll one eye, intently tracking their movements.

"Rhaego, this is Aramis," Constance said.

"Hello, Rhaego." Aramis placed his hand against the bars of the gate to see if the dragon would come greet him. He didn't, just continued to sulk in the back corner of his den. Aramis turned to Constance. "I'm really not sure what you want me to do."

Constance's expression pinched, and he could see she was equally at a loss. She grabbed a lead rope from a hook on the outer wall and opened the pen. Rhaego straightened as she entered, fixing her with a glower.

Constance Bonacieux had spent her entire life around dragons, yet Aramis couldn't help a flicker of concern, and he stepped in to take the rope from her so he could retrieve the dragon instead. He approached Rhaego from the side so the creature wouldn't feel cornered. Rhaego shuffled away from him, keeping to the wall and as far away as possible. Aramis didn't push. He gradually inched closer again. Rhaego skittered to the other side of the pen. Aramis noticed his wings were bound, which was understandable but the discomfort certainly wouldn't do much for the dragon's mood.

Round and round they went a couple more times until Aramis finally got close enough to snag the halter and slip the lead rope through one of the loops. Rhaego obviously wasn't completely wild—he didn't attack with claws or fire. But he dragged his feet as Aramis led him out of the den into the yard.

Constance crossed her arms and sighed. "See what I mean?"

"Have you tried bribing him with food?"

She huffed. "Of course. He expends more energy trying to steal from the bag than just doing what's asked to get it easily."

Aramis arched a brow at the dragon. "A little rascal, aren't you?"

As though in response, Rhaego abruptly plopped down in the middle of the yard and no amount of tugging on the lead could get him to move.

Constance went to the storeroom and came back with some strips of rabbit meat. "Come on, sit up nice and straight. You're a majestic creature, not a slug."

Rhaego eyed her for a long moment before suddenly surging up and trying to snatch the meat out of her hand. She jerked back just as Aramis yanked on the lead rope. The dragon's tail whipped around and thwacked Aramis in the face. He staggered back in surprise more than pain and pressed a hand to his stinging cheek. Rhaego glowered at him and dropped heavily to the ground again.

"Are you all right?" Constance exclaimed.

"Fine." He rubbed his face again; it didn't hurt enough to signify a severe welt or bruise. "He's quite the stubborn one."

"This is what I mean," Constance said despairingly. "And the King has no use for a recalcitrant dragon."

Aramis's chest constricted at the thought of the dragon dying, as it unexpectedly brought up memories of another dragon that had abruptly and unfairly lost its life. He regretted coming to help, especially since he still didn't think he could do anything substantial. Except perhaps to give Constance a break from the situation.

He gestured for her to pass him the meat. "Why don't you let us be for a bit?"

She hesitated a moment but handed him the food and then left.

Aramis let go of the lead rope and put some distance between him and Rhaego. He tossed a piece of rabbit meat several yards away, trying to entice the dragon to get up and move so he could at least get some light exercise. Being cooped up in his pen all day probably didn't help his disposition either.

Rhaego didn't move.

"You can either get the snack yourself or leave it for another dragon to enjoy," Aramis said.

Rhaego narrowed his eyes, and after another moment, got up with a huff and shuffled toward the meat. Aramis tossed a few more around the yard, but it was a pathetic attempt to get the dragon active and engaged, and he could tell Rhaego begrudged every moment of it. Aramis finally snatched up the lead rope and took him back to his den. After locking the gate, he lingered at the bars.

"Some of us just aren't meant to be tied down anywhere," he mused softly. "Attachments make us vulnerable." He closed his eyes against an upwelling of grief, still so poignant after all this time and amplified by the pervading loneliness that encased his heart in its protective walls.

The sound of scuffling had him opening his eyes. Rhaego had inched toward him, eyes trained on him intently.

Aramis gave him a sad look. "Were it within my power, I'd simply set you free. Wild spirits shouldn't be tethered." He sighed. "But none of our lives are our own, really."

He turned and walked away to take up his solitude once again.

.o.0.o.

The next day, Aramis went back to the dragon compound. Constance was just beginning to feed the dragons their breakfast and looked both surprised and relieved to see him.

"I had an idea for Rhaego," he told her. "If you'll give me his portion."

She quirked a curious look at him but easily handed over the rabbit carcasses. It would be too messy to cut them up into smaller bits, so Aramis went to the storeroom and picked up some strips of cured meat as well. Then he proceeded to hide them around the grounds. He put one rabbit under the corner of a tarp, the other between a barrel and one of the outhouses. He even hooked one of the strips of cured meat on a hook outside an empty dragon pen.

Constance had finished feeding the others by the time he was done and met him at Rhaego's pen to open the gate. The dragon lifted his head toward them, then narrowed his eyes at the lack of breakfast.

"I've hidden your food around the yard," Aramis informed him. "You want to eat, you have to get up and go get it."

Rhaego snorted and turned around, slumping down with his back to them.

"All these other dragons could do it in ten minutes, I wager," Aramis remarked blithely. "But if it's too hard for you, I understand."

That got Rhaego to snap his gaze to them again, a low growl rumbling in his throat as the statement seemed to prickle his pride. He pushed himself up and exited his pen without a lead rope. Aramis tried to bite back a smile as the dragon began lumbering across the yard, nose sniffing intently. His brows rose sharply when Rhaego narrowed in on the first rabbit after only a minute and went straight for it. The dragon found the other pieces of meat quickly as well, definitely under ten minutes.

"Wow," Constance commented. "Did he see you hide them?"

"Not from his pen," Aramis replied.

Of course, the ease with which that'd gotten Rhaego out of his den meant the dragon stubbornly refused to go back in afterward, and it took both of their combined efforts to herd him back. Still, Aramis came back for the evening meal and repeated the exercise, trying to pick more difficult hiding places. He put one piece of meat in a crate, which Rhaego ended up breaking in order to get the chunk out. Aramis abashedly apologized to Jean for that.

But he continued the activity with the dragon for each meal over the next couple of days, and each time the dragon quickly found the hidden meat. He seemed to have a keen sense of smell.

Curious, Aramis started hiding other items like articles of clothing and herbs. He'd give Rhaego a test scent and ask if he could track it down, always adding at the end that if he couldn't, it was okay. Not every dragon was cut out for that kind of skill.

Rhaego always fell for it. And he also always found the hidden item within minutes.

Sometimes he got distracted, particularly when a fresh delivery of meat had just arrived or it was windy and other scents were being carried across the yard. Aramis simply encouraged him to focus, giving him the test scent again until Rhaego got himself under control and succeeded in locating the target. It was remarkable. Aramis kept trying to think of new things to stump the dragon with, and Rhaego kept leaping at the chance to beat him at this little game they'd inadvertently constructed.

"He hasn't missed a single item yet," Aramis told Constance and her father Jean one day after urging them to come watch a demonstration. "And his accuracy is incredible. Here." He held up two bundles of freshly cut plants in his hand, sage and hemp, two plants with very similar scents. "I've hidden four sage bundles and one hemp around the compound. Rhaego!"

The russet dragon hobbled over curiously.

Aramis held out the handful of hemp for him to sniff. "Find this one."

Rhaego took in the plant's scent, then turned and roved his gaze around the yard, nostrils flaring. He began to meander toward the dens but pulled up short and started sniffing the air again. Aramis followed, keeping pace with him.

"That's it. Focus. They smell similar, but this is the one we want."

Rhaego changed direction, weaving back and forth across the yard as he honed in on the right scent. Aramis beamed when he started to make a beeline toward the back of the outhouse where Aramis had hidden the hemp. One minute later, the dragon let out a sneeze as he nearly inhaled the plant with a chirp of victory.

Jean and Constance came over, both looking quite impressed.

"I've worked with a lot of dragons," Jean said, "but I've never seen an aptitude like that." He grinned. "Perhaps I can convince the King to give us more time, given how valuable a skill this is to have in a dragon."

Aramis and Constance shared a smile.

Jean clapped Aramis on the shoulder. "Excellent job, son."

"Rhaego's the one doing the work," he countered, grinning at the dragon. "And it didn't kill you, did it?"

Rhaego huffed and rolled his eyes, then nudged his arm pointedly. Aramis pulled a small cheese cube from his coat and tossed it to the dragon as a reward.

Things were looking up for him.

.o.0.o.

Porthos and Athos landed in the garrison yard, puffs of dust bursting up around their dragons. They had just returned from a lengthy mission to England conveying royal correspondence from the King. The journey itself had been long crossing the English Channel, and then they'd had to remain in England to await the reply. Porthos had yearned for Paris. And now that they were back after delivering the response to the palace, he was exhausted and in need of some food and sleep, but even more than that, he wanted to find Aramis, check in with his friend. Dragon rider missions took them away from each other often and Porthos missed the presence of their third.

First he had to remove Vrita's tack so she could retire to her den. Porthos hauled the saddlebags off, then unbuckled the saddle. Vrita gave a full body shake before shuffling off.

"Welcome back," Pierre said as he walked by.

Porthos nodded in acknowledgement. "You seen Aramis?"

Pierre cocked his head toward the supply storeroom. "He's in there."

Porthos quickly put the saddle away, left his bags on the ground to retrieve later, and headed for the building. Athos followed. Porthos thought Aramis might have been doing inventory or organizing; he was surprised to find him sitting at a makeshift work bench apparently building something that looked like a large box, though with various oddly placed drawers and small mesh windows. Even Athos arched a curious brow at the sight.

"Hey," Porthos greeted.

Aramis looked up at them briefly. "Hey. How was the mission?"

"Long. I'll be happy to stay in Paris fer a while." He paused as Aramis went back to his task. "What are you doin'?"

"I'm making a puzzle contraption for one of Bonacieux's dragons. I've been helping Jean and Constance with the training and trying to think up ways to engage him. There are various compartments to put food in that the dragon will have to work out how to open." Aramis angled the contraption toward them so they could see the levers he'd constructed.

Porthos shot an excited look at Athos. Had Aramis finally changed his mind about pairing with another dragon?

"Clever," Athos commented mildly.

Aramis started putting the tools away. "I should try it out. I'll catch up with you later."

"I wouldn't mind seein' it in action," Porthos spoke up. Aramis's weak attempts to keep them at a distance always stung, even though the marksman didn't usually have the wherewithal to follow through on them.

Aramis hesitated for only a split second before shrugging. He picked up his invention in both hands, and Porthos and Athos followed him out as they headed for the royal dragon den.

Aramis stopped by the storeroom in the compound to retrieve some chunks of meat that he put in the device. From what Porthos could see, it was a rather ingenious setup. No lever or cog was the same for each compartment, meaning the dragon would indeed have to puzzle out how to open each one. Aramis set the large container on the ground and went to a nearby pen where he brought out a young russet dragon by a lead rope attached to a halter.

"I made something for you," he was saying to the dragon. "Let's see if you can figure this out."

The dragon shot Porthos and Athos a suspicious glower, which made Porthos glance at Athos uncertainly.

"Go on," Aramis prompted. "I've hidden food in several compartments. You'll have to figure out how to open them."

The dragon glanced at the contraption, then back at Porthos and Athos, eyes narrowed.

"Rhaego," Aramis said more sternly. "Come on, just give it a try."

The dragon swung his head back toward Aramis, then abruptly lashed out with his foreleg and kicked the box away with enough force that his foot smashed right through it. He gave a sharp flick to shake it off, the pieces crashing to the ground a few feet away.

Aramis jumped back a step. "Rhaego! What is wrong with you?"

The dragon snorted derisively in his face, hot breath buffeting his hair.

"The King is ready to give up on you!" Aramis exploded. "Do you even understand that? We're trying to save your miserable life!"

Porthos's brows shot upward in alarm and he instinctively took a step forward.

The russet dragon opened its mouth and shrieked at Aramis before spinning around and lumbering back to its pen. Aramis pivoted and kicked at the broken contraption.

Porthos exchanged a tense look with Athos, then cleared his throat. "What did you mean by that?"

Aramis's shoulders slumped. "Jean and Constance have been trying to train Rhaego for the past six months, and the lack of results has the King talking about having him put down instead."

"If he behaves like that after six months," Athos said carefully, "then perhaps it's for the best."

Porthos knew it was the wrong thing to say even before Aramis went frighteningly still.

"You didn't put me down when it took me months to recover from Savoy," Aramis said lowly.

"That's not the same thing," Athos replied.

"It's not Rhaego's fault he ended up here," Aramis snapped. Then, before either of them could say another word, he turned and stormed off.

Porthos ran a hand down his face and let out a soft curse. They'd been hoping that one day Aramis would be willing to let himself get close to a dragon again, and now it seemed he was just setting himself up for the very thing he feared—more pain and grief.

.o.0.o.

Late that night under the illumination of a full moon, Aramis returned to the dragon compound, making his way along the buildings until he came to Rhaego's pen. Pressing his back to the gate, he slumped down against it, drawing one knee up and draping an arm across it. In the pale moonlight and darkness, the dragon looked more forlorn than obstinate, curled up in his pen with his head on the ground, eyes glimmering like reflected amber starlight.

Aramis sighed. "Quite the pair, aren't we?" he mused softly. "I push everyone away too." His heart clenched. "Because it hurts too much to then lose them."

Rhaego simply stared up at him morosely.

"Did you lose someone when you were brought here?" Aramis wondered aloud. "Is that why you refuse to befriend anyone? If so, I can understand that."

He could imagine a baby dragon being ripped from its home, from its mother, being carted across Europe to a new land wholly unfamiliar and frightening, sold to a King so difficult to please whose moods changed on a whim. Why would Rhaego trust anyone?

"We're not all bad," Aramis went on. "Jean and Constance are good people. The Musketeers…they're full of good men too."

He closed his eyes at the memory of twenty of those good men losing their lives in a godforsaken forest far from home, and two dragons who had died trying to defend them. Why would he want Rhaego to embrace that kind of life? The only reason Aramis stayed was because he knew nothing else. He was a soldier through and through, and that meant facing death on a regular basis.

It was just that perhaps he hoped, on some small level, that death would rectify the mistake of leaving him the sole survivor of a massacre and come back to claim him like it was supposed to have that fateful day.

"I was seventeen when I became a soldier," he started, talking idly. "Nineteen when I became a Musketeer dragon rider. Oh, the adventures I could tell."

He heard a scuffing sound and looked over his shoulder to see Rhaego had moved an inch. Aramis leaned his head back against the bars and continued, launching into a tale of one of those early adventures, when he'd been young and naive and life had held such excitement. As he spoke softly in the dark, Rhaego slowly scooted closer and closer until he was pressed up against Aramis's back on the other side of the gate.

Aramis talked long into the night, inadvertently honoring those lost friends with the memories. At one point he wasn't sure whether he was talking to Rhaego, no one, or himself. But he kept at it, just to fill the silence and offer companionship to one who seemed just as lost and lonely as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Constance was up with the dawn, ready to commence with her morning chores. As she made her way to the dragon pens, however, she pulled up short at the unexpected sight of Aramis sitting on the ground outside Rhaego's pen, head slumped to the side as though he'd fallen asleep there.

"Aramis?" Constance called worriedly. What was he doing here like this?

She ventured closer and knelt down, casting a glance inside at Rhaego still asleep, pressed up against the gate at Aramis's back. She didn't detect the odor of alcohol on the musketeer, which was good. If he'd shown up here drunk for whatever reason, Constance would have fetched her father and let him give Aramis a stern talking to.

"Aramis," she tried again, reaching out and poking his shoulder.

His eyelids fluttered open and he looked around in confusion before straightening in alarm. "Constance."

She frowned as he quickly pushed himself to his feet. "Have you been out here all night?"

He ran a hand through his askew curls and glanced at Rhaego. "My apologies."

Constance studied him with concern. "Come inside. You look chilled."

He started to shake his head so she grabbed his arm and began hauling him toward the house anyway. Once inside, she pushed him toward a chair near the hearth and grabbed the kettle that had already heated over the fire, pouring some hot water into a cup and adding a tea bag to steep.

"What happened?" she asked.

Aramis shook his head, gaze fixed on the floor. "A setback with Rhaego. I don't even know what set him off."

Constance's heart fell. The dragon had been doing so well with Aramis's attention, she'd really thought it would have been enough. But the King's patience wouldn't last forever.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought you into this," she said.

Aramis looked up, the dark shadows under his eyes prominent, as well as the despondent air about him. "You didn't believe him a lost cause."

"No." _And neither are you_ , she thought. Perhaps a small part of her had been hoping that enlisting Aramis's help with Rhaego would also in turn help the musketeer. But Constance now felt as though she'd made everything worse. If the King's mind couldn't be changed about Rhaego, Aramis would also feel the pain of losing another dragon.

Aramis took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "We're not defeated yet," he declared and stood to walk out.

Constance hastened after him, watching in confusion as he searched the grounds until he found a jumble of broken wood that she had picked up yesterday and set aside, not knowing what it was.

"May I borrow some tools?" he asked.

"Sure…"

Still having no idea what he was up to, she led him to one of the supply storehouses and stood back to watch as he sat down and began repairing the box. Or, not quite a box, as it had various compartments all along the outside rather than the interior.

She heard increased grumbling coming from the dragon pens outside and had to leave to go feed them. She rushed through the chore and then hurried back to Aramis, curious to find out what he was building. She passed him different tools at his request and tracked down materials to replace parts that couldn't be salvaged.

A couple of hours later, they had a whole, intact contraption. Aramis put some small chunks of meat in the various slots and compartments, securing them with a variety of latches. Then he hefted up the large box and made his way out to Rhaego's pen. Constance followed, watching as he set the box outside and opened the gate.

"This didn't go so well yesterday," Aramis said to the dragon. "But I spent a lot of time making this for you the first time, and then fixing it, so you might want to try showing a little appreciation."

Rhaego begrudgingly shuffled partway out of his den and gazed down at the device. After a moment, he lowered his head to sniff it. Constance saw the way his eyes lit up at the scent of meat. He nudged the whole thing with his nose, but of course that didn't do anything.

"Breaking it doesn't count," Aramis said. "You have to open it properly to get the food."

Rhaego nudged the thing again and then glowered at Aramis.

Aramis merely folded his arms across his chest. "You're clever. Figure it out."

Constance held her tongue and watched as Rhaego started trying to work out which latches he had to pry open to successfully get to the various compartments for his reward. It took a few tries in the beginning, but he finally managed to nose one of them open. His tongue snaked in to snatch up the meat.

After that he studied the next compartment, working out how to rotate the cogs with his talon and pop the drawer open.

Constance shook her head in amazement. Aramis was barely containing his beaming grin.

"Maybe you should have been a dragon keeper," she teased.

Aramis glanced at her, the two of them sharing wide smiles.

.o.0.o.

Aramis continued to spend his free time working with Rhaego, trying to engage the dragon in various ways in order to foster trust between them. The food games were a marked step forward but far from the expectations if Rhaego was one day going to serve the King in the Musketeer ranks. So the next step was getting a saddle on the stubborn beast.

The first time Aramis brought one out, Rhaego wouldn't even let him get close with it, always scampering away out of reach. After several failed attempts with the direct approach, Aramis tried distracting Rhaego with the food puzzle box. As the dragon became absorbed with prying open the compartments, Aramis slowly came up behind him and set the saddle on his back. He paused, waiting for a reaction. None came as Rhaego continued to gobble up the treats. Aramis reached under his belly to grab the first strap to cinch into the buckle.

Rhaego suddenly gave a full body roll sideways away from him. The saddle fell off and the dragon gave it a flick of his tail for good measure before sauntering around to the other side of the box and scooping out the rest of the food.

Aramis ran a hand through his hair. But he would not be daunted.

He tried again and again. At this rate, the stupid dragon was going to get fat off the amount of treats he kept getting. But finally after a whole week, Aramis finally got the saddle on and secured. Rhaego just shot him a disgruntled look over it. Aramis didn't try to push it by climbing on; he simply spent another week just letting Rhaego get used to wearing it.

Then one day Aramis took a saddled Rhaego into the large indoor arena of the dragon compound. Giving the dragon a pat on the neck, Aramis moved down his side and reached for the saddle to climb on. Rhaego danced away. Aramis took a breath to maintain his patience and approached again. And again, Rhaego scampered out of reach. Aramis didn't know how many times he chased that dragon around the arena but he finally gave up in exasperation.

Rhaego canted his head at him and shuffled closer, angling his body slightly. Aramis quirked a brow and cautiously approached again. Rhaego didn't dart away this time. Aramis slowly reached up to grip the pommel, put his foot in the stirrup, and carefully heaved himself up into the saddle. A beaming smile broke free—only to be abruptly quashed by Rhaego suddenly bucking beneath him. Aramis lost his grip and went flying, landing hard on his back on the ground.

He lay there for a few moments, gazing up at the high ceiling in exhaustion as he let the aches settle. Rhaego's face appeared above him, head cocked and expression furrowed as though not sure whether Aramis was wounded or not.

"That hurt, you know," he said to the dragon.

Rhaego practically smirked and moved away, taking up position as though waiting for Aramis to try again.

Aramis pushed himself up and narrowed his eyes on the dragon suspiciously. But he got to his feet and slowly closed the distance between them. Rhaego eyed him in return, expression mild. Aramis put one foot in the stirrup.

Rhaego bolted, upsetting Aramis's balance and flinging him to the ground again.

Aramis groaned as he pushed himself up to sitting, drawing his knees up and hooking his arms around them. He glared at Rhaego, but instead of a hostile glower in return, the dragon started chuffing, as though he were _laughing_.

Aramis shook his head in irritation but found he couldn't quite help the smile tugging at his lips. "Hah hah," he said dryly. "You'd better watch it, or I might start putting cow hooves in that food box."

Rhaego snorted haughtily.

They were interrupted by the door opening with a loud creak and Porthos poking his head in. Aramis quickly got to his feet.

"Hey," Porthos said with a thread of hesitation. "Jean said you were in here. I jus' wanted to see how things were goin'."

Rhaego turned and shuffled toward the other end of the arena. Aramis sighed at the dragon's persistent antisocial behavior. Yet another thing they'd have to work on at some point. He walked over to Porthos.

"I think we're making progress," he said. And they _were_. Just, very slowly.

Porthos shifted his weight, looking awkward. "Haven't seen much of you lately."

Aramis shrugged. "I've been busy. We all have."

Porthos nodded, flicking his gaze between looking Aramis in the eye and not. "Think you could get away tonight to join me an' Athos at the tavern? It's been a while. Athos even offered to pay."

A refusal was automatically on the tip of Aramis's tongue, but he paused before saying it. He glanced at Rhaego, who was surreptitiously watching them. Aramis swallowed thickly and nodded to Porthos. "That'd be nice."

He couldn't very well convince Rhaego to make friends if Aramis kept pushing his away.

Porthos's eyes lit up with so much hope and elation that Aramis immediately felt guilty.

"Great." The large musketeer scuffed his foot in the dirt. "Okay. We'll see you later…" He half turned toward the door.

"Porthos," Aramis called. "I'm sorry."

Porthos blinked at him. "Fer what?"

"You and Athos were there for me after Savoy, and you haven't deserved me pushing you away." Even as he admitted it, Aramis still didn't quite know how to change.

"I get it," Porthos said sadly. "It jus' killed me not knowin' how to help."

"You have helped," Aramis said quietly. "You never gave up on me, even when I gave you cause to."

Perhaps that was why he was drawn to Rhaego, he realized. The dragon needed someone to be there for him unconditionally, the way Aramis's friends had always been there for him. The two of them just needed to learn to accept the overtures of friendship.

Porthos glanced at the russet dragon. "You thinkin' of gettin' him ready for Musketeer duties?" he asked carefully.

Aramis faltered. He knew what Porthos was really asking—was Aramis planning on pairing with Rhaego if he was ever able to get the dragon trained?

"I don't know," he hedged. "We're a long way off from that possibility anyway."

Porthos nodded. "Well, good luck."

As Porthos left, Aramis turned back to Rhaego and sighed. They needed it.

.o.0.o.

Aramis spent the next two and a half months working intensely with Rhaego, and while they were making incremental amounts of progress, it was nowhere near significant enough to impress the King. Aramis could now sit in the saddle on Rhaego, but the dragon wouldn't move while he was in it, or, if he was feeling mischievous, would walk in the exact opposite direction Aramis directed him to go. Louis was putting pressure on Jean, so finally Bonacieux decided to arrange a demonstration of Rhaego's tracking abilities for the King in order to emphasize how more training would be well worth it in the end.

Aramis hid the bundles of sage and hemp around the compound and readied himself at the gate of Rhaego's pen with Constance.

The King arrived with his typical entourage of servants and courtiers, and they gathered at one end of the yard, Louis already looking bored and annoyed at coming out.

Aramis opened the gate of Rhaego's pen. "Alright, just like before." He held out the handful of cut hemp for the dragon to sniff. "Find it."

Rhaego, however, didn't even bother taking a whiff. Jaw clamped tightly, the dragon absolutely refused to come out of his den.

Aramis flicked a glance over his shoulder at the gathered audience. "Okay, I know you're not used to working in front of so many people, but they're only here to observe. So go impress them."

Rhaego obstinately gave a rough head shake.

Aramis exchanged a look with Constance, both of them at a loss as to what to do.

"I thought you were making progress, Bonacieux," the King said impatiently.

"We have been, Your Majesty," Jean replied. "Aramis especially has made great strides with him." The royal dragon keeper threw a look at them, brows arched in urgency.

"Rhaego," Aramis hissed. "This is important." He gestured sharply for the dragon to get his rear out there, but Rhaego simply pushed himself back further into his den.

"Rhaego, _please_ ," Constance pleaded.

"I don't have all day, Bonacieux," Louis complained.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Jean gushed. "I don't know what's wrong with him today."

Louis huffed. "A waste," he commented and turned on his heel to leave, taking his entourage with him.

Aramis spun back to Rhaego. "Why did you do that?" he exclaimed. "We've done this dozens of times and you always do well. Why couldn't you just show them that!"

Rhaego let out a snort and turned his nose up.

Aramis shook his head in resignation. "I know you don't like performing like a trick pony. But sometimes things are required of us we don't particularly like."

Rhaego made a grumbling noise and turned his back on them.

Aramis hung his head. Next to him, Constance looked devastatingly disappointed. This had been their chance to show Louis that Rhaego wasn't a lost cause, and they had failed. It was only a matter of time now before the King gave the order. Constance loved each one of her family's dragons, and Aramis didn't want her to have to go through the loss of one just because the King couldn't see what they saw.

In that moment, he resolved to spare her that pain. The kind of pain he knew first hand and would never wish on anyone.

Aramis lingered as Constance locked Rhaego's pen and walked away despondently. He waited until she was out of sight and he was alone, then hurriedly opened Rhaego's pen again, grabbing the lead rope off the hook outside. Rhaego ignored him as he wedged himself around the dragon's curled up bulk to get the rope on his halter.

"Come on," he said urgently in a low voice. "We don't have much time."

Curious, Rhaego slowly got to his feet and followed Aramis out.

Aramis glanced around the yard to make sure they wouldn't be seen, then quickened his pace toward the back gate that opened out into a field and the countryside outside the city. Rhaego perked up the moment they stepped through, not having been outside the dragon compound since he'd come to be housed there. He swung his head this way and that, almost too distracted by the sights and smells to keep up with Aramis tugging him along.

Aramis led him as far as he dared, knowing their absence could be noted at any moment. He stepped close to Rhaego and slipped the halter off his head. Rhaego blinked in surprise. Aramis moved toward his side and drew a knife. Rhaego went rigid and snapped his gaze to him, but Aramis was in too much of a hurry for caution. He cut the bindings off Rhaego's wings.

Rhaego straightened sharply, his whole body giving a subtle vibration as the appendages unfolded from his back.

"Go," Aramis said. "Be free."

Rhaego stared at him in incomprehension, then confusion.

"Go," Aramis prodded and gave him a sad smile. "You don't deserve the fate that awaits you back there."

It would be Aramis's fate instead now—what he was doing was technically a crime. But in his heart he knew it was the right thing to do, and it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

"Now go! Before they notice."

Rhaego took a shuffling side step away, arching his wings. He gave them a tentative flap, unused to exerting them. Then he flapped them again, and again, increasing in speed and force until he seemed to get the hang of it and suddenly launched into the air. His flight pattern was erratic at first, dipping and banking as he struggled to reacclimatize to flight, but soon instinct took over and he soared high into the sky, disappearing into the glare of the sun.

Aramis wound up the lead rope with the halter around his arm and turned to head back. When he slipped back through the rear gate into the compound, he was surprised to see Athos and Porthos in the yard talking with Constance, who seemed upset. It was rather fast for her to have called them. But then, they'd known the demonstration was this morning; perhaps they'd come to see how it had gone.

Drawing his shoulders back, Aramis strode forward.

Athos saw him first and immediately broke away, storming toward him. "What did you do?" he demanded sharply. It was unusual for his normally placid demeanor to crack like that.

Aramis shrugged helplessly; what could he say?

"You committed theft of royal property, do you understand that?" Athos snapped. "You'll be hanged."

"My life was forfeit two years ago," he countered in a weary tone.

Athos looked exasperated beyond words. " _Aramis_ …"

"A part of me died in that forest," he interrupted. "Maybe it's time for the rest of me to catch up."

Porthos surged forward and seized him by the front of his doublet, giving him a vicious shake. "How dare you say that! After everythin' we've been through. You'd throw it all away now?"

Aramis couldn't meet his friend's eye. "I know," he said brokenly. "I'm sorry, Porthos. I just couldn't let another one die." His breath hitched.

Porthos changed his grip and threw his arms around Aramis instead, pulling him close fiercely. Aramis felt his lungs compressing. What was done was done, and while he mourned the pain he was causing his brothers, he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions.

"Look," Constance suddenly gasped.

Aramis pulled back from Porthos and looked up in time to see Rhaego come swooping down to land in the yard. He blinked in dismay.

"What are you doing? You were free."

Rhaego shuffled closer and pressed his nose into Aramis's shoulder, looking at him with mournful eyes.

"I don' believe it," Porthos uttered.

Constance folded her arms across her stomach. "Seems to me he's made his choice," she said. "And picked his rider."

Aramis didn't know what to say, what to think. He stared at the russet dragon, who nudged him again as though in affirmation of Constance's statement.

"It won't be easy," he warned. "It's a great honor, and a great responsibility."

Rhaego's expression pinched for a brief moment as though rethinking it, but then he dipped his head toward Aramis again.

Aramis reached out to lay a hand on the dragon's neck. He supposed that if Rhaego had chosen him, then the least he could do was the same.

He turned to Athos and Porthos. "I'm sorry," he said again, meaning so many things.

Athos clasped the back of his neck and gave a fervent squeeze. "I understand," he said with sincerity. "But don't ever do it again."

Aramis huffed out a laugh and turned back to Rhaego. He had no idea how this was going to go, but it felt like the dawn of a second chance.

For both of them.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME
> 
> A string of violent robberies lead the musketeers to the place Porthos grew up—the Court of Miracles.


End file.
